Unrecognizable
by Lady Knight Katie of Masbolle
Summary: AU. What if instead of getting tilt silly in Kel's second match against Lord Wyldon, she gets injured? Who will be there for her in the weeks to come? Follow Kel's journey to recovery while navigating the roiling ocean her life has become.
1. Chapter 1

Keladry of Mindelan perched in her saddle at the end of the tilting lane, shaking her hands to regain their feeling. Peachblossom's breath came heavy and quick. Kel felt the same breathlessness after going two rounds against Lord Wyldon. This would be the third and final pass. She wasn't even done tilting against the man and already her body ached fiercely. She hoped against hope that she could hold on for one last round.

The trumpet sounded and Peachblossom charged without her prompting. Kel shifted in her seat, trying to find her balance. She watched as Lord Wyldon came barreling down the lane on his own warhorse, Cavall's Heart. They lowered their lances in tandem, and Kel could already tell this was going to end badly for her. They met with a great clash.

Kel was idly aware that her lance had met its mark on the former training master's shield. However, that small victory was over shadowed by a great blooming pain in her shoulder and then the feeling of flying.

Her last coherent thought before her back slammed the ground was the regret that she didn't get to bed Cleon before she died.

* * *

Lord Raoul sat in the stands of the tilting yard, watching his young squire square off for the third and final round of her match. Warmth settled in his chest; the pride he felt for his squire was evident in his smile. Which was all well and good, seeing as words just weren't adequate at the moment.

It was obvious that Kel wasn't going to win the match, but Raoul still stood to win a good amount of coin if she could manage to stay on her mount. Raoul could definitely admire Kel's skill with a lance but he wasn't stupid enough to bet against Lord Wyldon. Not yet anyway.

The spectator stands were full and noisy today. Evidently, everyone wanted to see how The Girl stacked up against one of Tortall's legends. Raoul could pick out a few of his men in their blue uniforms sitting around the arena. He also spied Alanna sitting next to Duke Baird, as well as a group of squires shouting encouragements.

Then the trumpet sounded and Peachblossom charged. The great beast was tired, as evidenced by his frothing mouth and his sweat streaked sides, but the gelding refused to let mere exhaustion slow him down. Raoul could tell Kel was sore and tired as well, her pinched facial expression only visible to those who know her best. The determined fire in her eyes, however, was apparent to all.

Raoul watched as the fierce warriors lowered their lances simultaneously and crashed together.

Kel's lance struck true; Lord Wyldon's shield buckled slightly, just below the center. Unfortunately for Kel, Lord Wyldon's lance also landed.

Raoul couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips as he watched Kel get popped from the saddle and go flying. Well, there went that bet.

Raoul stood from his seat and joined the crowd in polite applause for the former training master. He was already planning Kel's next tilting lesson. Then he noticed an anxious quiet settle in the stands. He looked back to the arena and felt dread creep into his gut. Kel had yet to move.

Raoul started to shoulder his way through the throng of people standing in his way, muttering general apologies as he went. He watched as Lord Wyldon swung down from his mount and quickly make his way to Kel's side. The man dropped to his knees and pulled the squire's helm from her head. Dread weighed in his gut like a brick and fear was starting to constrict his lungs when Raoul heard Lord Wyldon shout, "Goldenlake!"

Raoul in turn shouted, "Alanna! Baird!" Raoul picked up his pace and started shoving people who got in his way. He was past being polite. When he finally managed to duck into the arena, he threw himself down at his squire's side. The quiet surrounding them made Raoul's skin prickle. When he saw the blood on the inside of Kel's helm, terror choked him.

"Mindelan! Keladry, answer me," Lord Wyldon demanded gruffly. His fingers pressed against the pulse point in Kel's neck and Raoul was reassured to hear the man's relieved sigh.

The next moment Baird dropped to the ground at Kel's head and his hands were pressing against her temples. Green fire leaped from his palms without hesitation. The healer was mumbling to himself as his Gift catalogued her injuries. After a brief pause, the fire faded. Baird's voice was quiet when he spoke. "She has a severe concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I'm going to try to wake her. She should spend at least tonight in the infirmiry for observation, but we'll decide that later."

The green fire was back, wrething Kel's head in a grim parody of a crown. Raoul held his breath when her eyes flickered a moment and then opened. The knot in his gut tightened when he noticed her dreamy hazel eyes looked glassy and blank.

"Keladry?" Lord Wyldon asked. Kel's eyes didn't move from where they were watching clouds drift by. In a surprising moment of tenderness, Lord Wyldon gently touched his finger tips to her cheek. "Keladry? Please look at me," he requested. Her eyes flickered to look at the ex-training master. The knot in Raoul's gut tightened further still when he realized there was no recognition sparking in Kel's eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Kel tilted her head as his words reverberated in her skull. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her dry dusty lips. Her reply made Raoul want to howl with grief. "Who are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Kel became aware of was the throbbing in her skull. She could hear her heart beat in her ears and her head would twinge painfully in perfect unison. For a moment she was afraid she was adrift at sea; the throbbing behind her eyes and the beating in her ears worked together to amplify her nausea. It was sheer force of will for Kel keep her rebelling stomach in check. She had a feeling the ship's crew wouldn't be pleased with her for sicking up on their deck.

The second thing Kel became aware of was the feeling of something solid beneath her back. She took a deep breath and was dimly surprised to recognize the scent of horses and earth. She slowly opened her eyes. She was laying on the ground, not a ship. But then why did it feel as if her body were moving with out her permission?

She watched the white fluffy clouds chase each other in the sky, picking out shapes as they scuttled by. It was a game her and her mama would play when the family would take meals out in the gardens. She almost smiled but stopped herself just in time. Mama said that she could only smile on the inside now; that the people they were staying with didn't like to show or see emotions.

Suddenly there was a light pressure on her cheek. A gruff yet gentle voice asking,"Keladry? Please look at me."

Kel's eyes snapped to the man who had made the request. He had called her Keladry. Something niggled in the back of her mind that that was not how this man usually addressed her. She tried to wiggle the memory lose, like how her tongue would wiggle at lose teeth, but nothing came forward. He was a handsome man, for all that he was bald. He had a square jaw and light eyes. A sharp scar cut across his face. She wondered how he got it. She felt like she should know this man; he knew her name after all, but the answer evaded her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She had to concentrate on not drawing her brows down into a confused frown. The Yamanis wouldn't approve. But this just wasn't right. This man shouldn't be talking to her in such a careful manner. How she knew this she couldn't tell. All this wrongness was just adding to her already aching head.

She wet her lips, surprised to find them dry and dusty. How long had she been lying on the ground? Had one of the other children kicked dirt in her face again? She asked the first question that came to her. "Who are you?"

Kel startled at the anguished sound that came from her left side. There was another man kneeling there, watching her closely. His eyes were dark as was the riotous pile of curls on his head. He seemed to be in perfect contrast to the man that had been speaking. She was surprised at the myriad of emotions that were visible on his face and in his eyes. The Yamanis wouldn't appreciate it at all, but seeing the concern on this man's face made warmth bloom in her chest. She wished she could soothe his hurt like her mama would sometimes soothe her, but Kel couldn't help but feel that she was the reason he was hurting so.

She held back another frown when the same niggling feeling told her she should know this man, too. "Who are you? What am I doing on the ground?" she asked again. She had to bite her lip to keep her questions from spilling past her lips.

She raised a hand to press against her still pounding head and was surprised to see it covered by a metal gauntlet. Her eyes tracked from her hand, up her arm, and across her chest. She was wearing a chain mail shirt and plate armor. There was no holding back the confused frown now.

"Keladry, this man is Lord Wyldon of Cavall. He was your training master," said a new voice.

Kel shook her head feeling dazed. There's no way that man was her training master. Her training master was Nariko. A fiery, stout Yamani woman. Something just was not adding up.

"And this man is Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak," the new voice continued.

Kel's eyes went impossibly wide as she turned to stare at the large man kneeling beside her. "Lord Raoul the Giant Killer?" she whispered in awe.

She watched as a grimace swept across his face before he collected himself once more. "Yes. I'm your knight master," he confirmed.

"Knight master!?" was Kel's squeaked reply. The brave, heroic, gallant Lord Raoul the Giant Killer was her knight master!? Wait a minute... "I thought only squires had knight masters?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

This time the pained look did not leave Lord Raoul's face.

"Not to mention the Yamani don't _have_ knight masters. But you're not Yamani, you're Tortallan," Kel rambled. She didn't see the exchange of concerned looks taking place above her. Her Yamani mask was slipping and she didn't know how to stop it. "What are you doing in Yaman, my lord?"

"Keladry, we need to get you to the infirmary. Can you stand?" the strange voice inquired. Kel tilted her head to look up. Yet another man was kneeling next to her. He also seemed familiar. _Eyes. Nose._ She nodded, distracted by trying to place where she'd seen his face before.

A large hand gripped her uninjured left arm and helped her into a sitting position. The world tilted dangerously. Kel felt as if she were back on a ship once more until she took a few deep breaths to steady herself. With the help of the hand, she got her feet under her and stood on quivering legs.

The dizziness was back and worse than ever. She managed to grunt a quick, "Sick." Which was all the warning the three men had before Kel fell to her hands and knees, sicking up on the dusty ground.

A cool hand cupped her forehead and Kel leaned into the touch. Her roiling stomach started to settle and the world around her stopped tilting precariously.

"There," the unnamed man soothed. "I bet that feels better." Kel nodded as she leaned back on her heels, holding her arm to her chest. The tears in her eyes were no longer just from the pain in her shoulder, but also humiliation for being weak in front of these men. It was as if the Gifted man heard her thoughts. "Keladry, there's nothing to feel ashamed of. You are injured. We won't judge you for being sick and injured."

"Yes, sir," she mumbled with a soft sniff. The man's eyes practically sparkled with good humor.

They didn't try having her stand again, instead choosing to wait for a stretcher to be brought. Lords Raoul and Wyldon helped maneuver her onto it and walked beside her as two men in blue uniforms carried the poles between them. Lord Raoul gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

 _Safe._


	3. Chapter 3

Lord Raoul stood outside the infirmary tent. His arms were crossed over his chest, right index finger pressed against his lips. Sloe black eyes watched his squire with careful contemplation. Lord Raoul might seem calm and composed to the eyes of passerby, but inside he was panicking. There were so many decisions to make in regards to Kel and he was now the only one who could make them.

Would this injury do what all those conservatives failed to do? Will Kel no longer be able to become a knight? He knew it had been her dream since she was a child. How could he be expected to make such a life changing decision! The Kel he knew wouldn't let something like this stand in her way, and he was inclined to agree. She had had such raw talent at age ten that he didn't think it would be difficult to help her relearn her combat skills. The question was, would it be safe? Would this injury have physical manifestations in addition to her memory loss? What about trauma? Would she be skittish around horses or in combat now?

He never imagined he'd be glad to be on progress. At least it gave them some time to help Kel heal and access her abilities anew. But after? Would she stay with him and the Own out in the field? Should he send her to the palace to be placed under Duke Baird's care? It all hinged upon whether or not she could still follow her dreams for knighthood. And what if she couldn't? Would her parents send her to the convent to make up for lost time? Raoul knew she'd hate it there. Kel was not the type of girl to sit around and play damsel. That was if she was still the Kel he had come to know. Would the injury change her personality?

Raoul cringed internally as he thought about having to tell Kel's parents what had happened. Ilane of Mindelan was a formidable and intimidating woman and Baron Piers could be just as intimidating when he wished to be. Would they even allow their daughter to continue training for her shield even if she was able? Would they make her give up her dream for her own safety and their peace of mind?

And-Oh Gods. Alanna. How was he supposed to tell Alanna that her prodigy might not be able to follow in her footsteps? He was not looking forward to _that_ conversation.

A cool hand on the nape of his neck broke through his frantic thoughts. He sighed when his burgeoning migraine retreated. Raoul sent the man next to him a small smile in thanks.

"You looked like you needed it," Duke Baird explained. The silence that descended upon them was taut as they both watched Kel talk to her best friend. Raoul's heart lifted when he saw her smile at the young man. "I'm going to tell you what I said to him," Baird continued. "She's lost several years worth of memories. She and I have determined that the last birthday she _remembers_ is her eighth, yet she _knew_ she was older than that. She told me can feel when something seems right or wrong, but she has difficulty figuring out why she feels that way."

"Does she know what's happened and that she's missing her memories?" Raoul asked quietly.

Baird nodded. "I have made her aware of the situation, yes." Another long silence fell between them as they watched the two friends once more. "If she asks you questions it is very important to be as honest as possible with her. Don't hold back an answer. However, that doesn't mean that you should compare her and remind her of who she used to be."

"What does that mean?"

"Keladry won't be the same person she was before the accident. The memories and experiences that are now lost sculpted her into who she was. Now that she doesn't remember, well, her personality will reflect that loss. We need to see her and accept her for the person she is now, not the person who she was." Baird's voice was gentle. As if he were comforting someone grieving for a loved one. Which, if Raoul thought about it, he was.

Raoul nodded. "I figured, and I will." He paused before voicing the most pressing question weighing on his mind. "Do you think she could complete her training? Would want to complete her training? Is this injury the end of the road for her career?"

Baird sighed and pursed his lips in thought for a moment before he answered. "She has already expressed her desire to continue her knight training. There is the issue of a slight tremor in her hands and arms that I believe will only worsen with physical activity. Don't be surprised if there are things that she needs to relearn. Over all, I believe if she is given the time and care she needs, Keladry could still pursue her knighthood."

Raoul heaved a sigh of relief before tensing again. "And her parents? Do you think they would allow her to continue?"

Baird nodded again. "I like to think that I know Ilane well enough that I can say that as long as Keladry wants to continue, she would allow it."

Raoul finally shifted his eyes from the young squires who were still talking to look at the older man beside him. "Will she ever recover her memories?"

Baird met the black eyes with his own green. "That I do not know."


	4. Chapter 4

Kel studied the cloth ceiling of the tent above her infirmary bed. Under her calm exterior, her thoughts and emotions were churning ferociously.

Duke Baird had just finished speaking to her about her injuries. And wasn't _that_ a mortifying conversation! She had called the man sir, for crying out loud! Apparently she was a squire, Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak's squire to be precise, and she'd been thrown off her horse during a tilting competition by her former training master, Lord Wyldon. In addition to dislocating her shoulder, which now rest in a sling that crossed over her chest, she hit her head hard enough to lose almost eight years worth of memories.

Eight years of her life are now gone. She couldn't help but imagine her lost years as dandelion seeds being blown about by a breeze. Her mind felt disconnected from her body. Duke Baird had given her the basics of her life. She and her family had come back from the Islands, she became a page, became a squire, and served under Lord Raoul. He told her that it was perfectly fine to feel overwhelmed and confused; he even encouraged her to ask questions if she had any. She had explained how people and things seemed familiar, yet she couldn't out right remember them. He had explained that those feelings were a good sign and that she should trust her instincts.

She couldn't stop her mind from turning over question after question now that the man had left her to rest. Why had she and her family come back to Tortall? Did she normally act Yamani or Tortallan? What happened to Cricket and Yuki? Did she have any friends here? Where were her parents?

That last question gave her pause. Her parents. Would they allow her to continue her training? She still desperately wanted to become a warrior and if she had become squire to the Giant Killer himself, then that must mean she was good at it. Would he still want her as his squire after this? What if he thought her a weak child for being knocked from her saddle and hurting herself and didn't want anything more to do with her? The thought caused an excruciating ache in her chest and her eyes welled with tears. _Safe. Kind._ She squeezed her eyes shut tightly to keep the tears from falling. Gods, how she wished she could have her memories back.

She felt a long fingered hand slide into hers and give a squeeze. Kel's eyes shot open and she turned her head to look at the man who sat on her right. He had brown hair that swept back from a widow's peak, slanted green eyes, and a wide mouth made for smiling. _Eyes. Nose._ Except, he wasn't smiling. He was watching her closely; concern shining in his eyes as he looked at her. He raised his left hand to brush her bangs from her eyes. _Safe._ The swell of affection that rose within her put a smile on her face. Damn being a Yamani. She wasn't in Yaman right now and she was happy. She wanted this man to see that he made her happy.

The man continued to run his hand over her short hair, and Kel was surprised to find that she didn't mind at all. She decided to trust her instincts, just as Duke Baird had told her. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

 _Whispering voices among ancient tomes._

Kel shrugged her left shoulder. How was she supposed to answer that? Physically she felt fine; nothing worse than the soreness in her shoulder. But mentally? Emotionally? She was hanging by a thread and it was only a matter of time before she lost control. _Trust._ She finally settled on, "Overwhelmed. Confused."

A wry smile tilted his lips. "I can only imagine," was the quietly drawled reply. "Well, my name's Neal. Nealan of Queenscove, but only my least favorite aunt calls me Nealan. I was your page sponsor and we've been best friends since." There was a calming silence that followed Neal's words as he kept stroking Kel's hair and letting her absorb the information. "I'd be happy to answer any questions you might have. I'm just glad that you're not hurt worse than you are. There have been plenty of knights and squires that've perished on the tilting lanes. I never did understand why you seemed to love the sport."

"I'm not sure I love it anymore," was her quiet reply. She smiled when Neal ran a thumb over her knuckles.

"That's fine," he reassured her. "It's perfectly acceptable to change your mind. In fact, I agree. I don't think I like the sport as much now, either." His accompanying smile was genuine and gentle.

"Was there any other weapons I was good at?"

" 'Was there any other weapons I was good at?' Gods, Kel. You were amazing with just about everything," Neal drawled at her. Kel got the feeling that about eighty percent of what came out of this man's mouth was sarcasm. Which was fine with her; she liked his sarcasm. "Your favorite weapon of all is your glaive."

Kel smiled. "Naginta," she said softly to herself. "Did we all learn it together?"

Neal shook his head. "The Stump would've had heart palpitations if we all tried to learn it. No, you already knew it when you came back from Yaman. You used to practice with it every morning before classes and Lord Raoul lets you use it as a long reach weapon out in the field."

There was so much in his reply that confused her more than she already was. Heart palpitations? But she settled on, "The Stump?"

Neal's smile turned into a devilish grin that pulled at the edges of her own mouth. "I call him the Stump because he's so stiff."

Kel snorted at the nick name then threw her hand over her face once she realized what she'd done. No self respecting Yamani would allow themselves to react in such a way. The wide grin and hearty laughter that came from Neal however made it worth it.


	5. Chapter 5

When Neal entered his tent to find the rest of his friends waiting for him, he heaved a theatrical sigh. "I should be surprised, but I'm not," he drawled. In all honesty, Neal was glad for the distraction. He really didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of his and Kel's conversation, how she obviously didn't recognize him, weighed heavily upon his shoulders. He was dealing with the situation the only way he really could; with the use of sarcastic humor and caustic remarks. If he didn't, he felt as if he would splinter into a million pieces from the crushing devastation.

After it became apparent that Neal wouldn't, couldn't, start this conversation, Roald turned to look at him from where he was studying the tent wall. "Well? How is she?" he asked.

So far Neal was the only one of their friends that had been allowed to speak with Kel. His previous healer training and his status as her undisputed best friend were points in his favor. That he was the son of the Chief Healer only helped his case. He was relieved to have been able to see her; to talk to her. Standing before their friends now, being expected to talk about her injuries, he wasn't sure if it were a blessing or a curse.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words stuck in his throat. What was there to say? That physically she would be alright, although she would likely have a permanent tremor in her hands and arms? That she didn't recognize him, wouldn't recognize any of them, because she has no recollection of the past eight years of her life? That she looks absolutely miserable lying in her cot while trying to piece together what remained of her memories? That there was a real chance she might not be able to achieve her knighthood; the goal she had worked _so_ _hard_ for? That he felt like an utter failure of a best friend because there was nothing he could do?

Neal slowly closed his mouth before running an aggitated hand through his hair. After a couple of deep breaths, he decided to just get on with it. "It's serious guys." Another breath. "When she fell, Kel hit her head. Hard. She has a severe concussion and there are a couple symptoms that-" Neal ran his hand through his hair again, making it stand on end. "Father says that it's likely that she'll have tremors in her hands permanently."

"Well, that's okay then," Cleon interrupted. "I mean, it'll definately be work for her to learn how to manage with a tremor, but it's still possible. It's not the worst outcome by far."

Neal watched as Esmond and Seaver both nodded in agreement. Owen's eyes shone with optimism. Roald and Faleron shared a look that he just didn't have the stamina to decipher. How he wished he didn't have to correct them. "That's not all." The words were whispered, but they all heard. Silence descended upon them, and with it came grief. Neal pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long drawn breath. "The other symptom of the concussion is amnesia. Kel-she doesn't-can't remember-"

He managed to take a shuddering breath. A hand gripped his shoulder tightly in silent support. Gods, how he wanted to just fall apart. He wanted to scream and shout at the top of his lungs that this wasn't _fair;_ that Kel didn't deserve this. He wanted to break something, hurt someone. Rage burned hot in his veins while despair clawed in his chest. Why did this have to happen to _her?_ Why can't the Gods find someone else to punish?

Neal took another deep breath. Kel had always been the strong one of them all. The one with the fierceness and ferousity and tenacity to do what was right and just at all times. Now it was his turn. He had to be strong for her now. He vowed he wouldn't let her down; he would do what he must to be there for her. "She doesn't remember the last eight years of her life. Apparently when she came to, she thought she was still in Yaman. She didn't recognize Lord Raoul, Lord Wyldon, or my father. She didn't recognize me. She won't recognize any of you. She has no memories of her time as a squire or a page."

Cleon clapped a hand to his mouth to stifle the sob that pushed its way past his lips. Merric gripped his shoulder in silent agreement. Neal's heart hurt for the man. He had just admitted his feelings to Kel and even though she had accepted them and welcomed his advances, there was no telling if she would accept them now.

Neal sighed and raked his hand through his hair again. "When she asks us questions, and trust me she has plenty, we need to be as honest as possible." He paused to look each of them in the eye. "Kel is no longer the woman we've come to know. Our life experiences are what shapes us into who we become. She has just lost eight years of her life. She is not, and will never be, the same again. And it's important for us to remember this and accept her for who she is now. We can't make her feel bad for not being the same person anymore; it's not fair to her. This is all out of her control."

Cleon's face was gaining a red tint when he sputtered angrily, "Stop talking about her as if she's dead! Kel's not gone! She's lying in the infirmary tent as we speak!" The tension in the air was pulling Neal's frayed nerves taut as Cleon continued to ramble. "Just because she doesn't remember us now doesn't mean she can't possibly recover those memories. We've spent the last six years together in page training. I'm sure she'll start to remember us if we can just jog her memory. She just needs a reminder. She's still my Kel." By the end of his monologue, Cleon had frustrated tears clinging to his eyelashes.

Surprisingly it was Owen who stepped up to Cleon and jabbed his chest with a finger. "That's not how this works. Neal's right. The Kel we knew no longer exists. It's up to us to help her move on with her life. We can't be making her feel guilty for something she has no control over."

"I can't believe you!" Cleon shouted as he gave Owen a shove. "What is wrong with all of you? How can you all just give up on her like this? What kind of friends are you?" He turned on his heel to stalk from the tent after glaring at them all in turn when Neal grabbed the man's elbow.

"If I hear word that you've gone and upset her, may the Gods help you," Neal whispered. Cleon's only response was to wrench his arm from Neal's grip and sulk out of the tent.


	6. Chapter 6

"Keladry."

Kel kept her eyes shut, relishing in the lingering feeling of weightlessness that occurs between sleep and wakefulness. A gentle hand passed through her hair and a soft sigh escaped her lips.

"Keladry, darling, it's time to wake up."

The hand combing through her locks was as familiar to her as the voice that spoke to her. Keeping her eyes closed, she asked, "Mama?"

"Yes, darling. I'm here."

Kel opened her heavy eyelids slowly. Morning sunlight streamed through the open tent flap to gently illuminate her mother's elegant white hair. She looked older than Kel remembers her being. There were wrinkles in the corner of her mother's eyes that she could swear weren't there before. It felt as if the woman had aged ten years overnight.

Kel blinked. That-made perfect sense, actually, seeing as she apparently can't remember the last eight years of her life. If she had been skeptical of Duke Baird's diagnosis yesterday, here was the proof sitting in front of her now.

Her mother smiled gently, her hand continuously smoothing her hair. "How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?"

To her mortification, Kel felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes. A feeling of wrongness engulfed her. She was almost certain the Keladry she used to be would never allow anyone to see such emotion from her. She felt ashamed of herself. Why can't she get a grip on her wayward feelings? Neal had told her that she had perfected her Yamani mask before her accident, so why was it failing her now?

The hand was removed from her hair and arms encircled her. She leaned into her mother's hug, letting the warmth radiating from the woman calm her. "It's perfectly acceptable to feel lost and overwhelmed. We aren't in Yaman, you can show emotion here and no one will shame you for it," Ilane murmured. "My brave, brave little girl. So strong."

Kel let her mother's soothing words wash over her aching heart. They stayed her tears and she was able to blink the burning sensation away. "I'm so confused, mama," her voice was little more than a whisper. "And scared. There's so many things I don't understand." Her mother was quiet, waiting while Kel organized her thoughts. "I know we're in Tortall, but when did we leave Yaman? And why? What happened to Cricket and Yuki?"

"We left Yaman about six years ago now. Your father successfully nagotiated with the Yamani and now both countries are allies." Kel's eyes went round. Her mother's quiet chuckle was deep and melodic. "Yes, it was a very impressive feat. As for your friends, the girl you knew as Cricket is actually Princess Shinkokami and she happens to be Prince Roald's betrothed. She's here in Tortall. In fact that's why his majesty decided to have a Grand Progress, to introduce her to the kingdom. It just so happens that Lady Yukimi is here in Tortall as well, acting as one of the princess' ladies in waiting."

Kel gave herself a moment to absorb this information before asking her next question. "Why am I having such a hard time with my mask, mama? Neal told me yesterday that I had my mask perfected."

"My guess would be that perhaps it's another side effect of your accident, my dear." When she saw Kel's eyebrows draw together, she explained. "It might be a manifestation of some mental trauma. Perhaps you simply don't have that level of control over your emotions anymore. Which is perfectly acceptable; it's part of your injury and is beyond your control. It could also be that the emotions you are feeling in the moment are just too powerful to suppress. Either way, your family and friends will love and support you regardless. If the loss of your mask bothers you so much, I suggest you just keep practicing."

Kel nodded. Her mother was right, all she could do was keep trying. Which led perfectly to her next question. "Mama?"

"Mmm?"

Kel licked her suddenly dry lips. She needed to have the answer to this question before she went mad with all the unknowns her future held. Her heart beat furiously in her chest. "Will you and papa allow me to continue persuing my shield?" Her voice was tentative when she finally spoke.

Ilane was quiet for a long time. The old Yamani proverb 'You need never unsay what you did not say in the first place' rang in Kel's mind. "Keladry, your papa and I will support you in whatever you decide. You've had a terrible accident, but that doesn't mean that you no longer know what you want from your life. Your life is still your own."

Tears of relief sprang to her eyes. _Stone._ She quickly got her traitorous eyes under control again. "I still want my shield."

Her mother smiled tenderly. "If that's the case then you must work extremely hard to regain the training that you lost. And when you feel like you've given all you have, push yourself farther still. You must make the choice; will you allow this injury to drag you into a life of mediocrity, or will you use it to propel yourself to excellence?"

Kel returned the smile. "Thanks, mama." She yawned and allowed her eyes to fall shut. She felt her mother lower her to the cot once more. The hand came back to run through her hair once again.

"You should eat if you can, darling. It is morning after all."

"Mmmm. Tired, mama."

The answering chuckle was a deep rumble. "Alright then. Rest, Keladry."


	7. Chapter 7

Kel stood silently in the shadow of the healing tent, her arms crossed. She observed passers by while her gut churned uncomfortably. Not even an hour ago, Duke Baird had stopped by her cot to tell her that he was releasing her into the care of her knight master. He explained that there was nothing more he could do to help with her amnesia. Either her memories would come back or they wouldn't.

Remembering that conversation made her stomach drop. She shifted her weight in a vain attempt to relieve her discomfort. In truth, the thought that she might never recover her memories was-. There were no words to describe the deep seated frustration, despair, and desperation that constricted her chest.

A man in the uniform of the King's Own came from the crowd to stand next to her. He looked at her calmly through half lidded eyes. His dark skin and brown eyes marked him as a bazhir. His smile was warm, friendly. Kel had the feeling that she knew this man already. "Squire Kel," he intoned with a nod. "I am Qasim. My lord requested that I show you around."

Kel offered her hand for a shake then quickly stuffed it into her breeches pocket to hide the trembling. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak to this seasoned warrior. "It's nice to meet you. Again," she replied as she kept step beside him. She was grateful for the ambling pace; her legs felt wobbly. She sighed. Apparently there was more to her recovery than just getting her memories back.

"Ach. You remember me?" he asked her, his eyebrows lifting towards his hair line.

She shook her head. "No, sorry. I just have this feeling that I knew you from-from before."

He waved her apology away with a large, calloused hand. "You did know me in the past, but that does not matter. You will know again."

Kel spent her day following Qasim and listening intently to all he had to say. She was guided through the progress' camp, shown where her and her knight master's tent was located, and introduced to a ridiculous amount of people. Included among them was Captain Flyndan who gave her a nod of approval, Sergeant Osbern who clapped her shoulder, and Lerant, her knight master's prickly standard bearer.

When they ducked into the mess tent reserved for members of the Own for the evening meal, Kel was hard pressed to hold in a relieved sigh. Her stomach had started protesting its emptiness ten minutes ago. She had also noticed that her hands shook worse when she grew hungry. It seemed imperative that she kept well stocked from now on. She followed Qasim to the serving line and copied him as he picked up a tray and cutlery. Thankfully neither the uniformed man who served her, nor Qasim, said anything about how the tray trembled in her hands.

Kel followed her guide to a table that sat a smattering of soldiers, none of them familiar to her. She was content to sit and listen to the day's gossip; if she felt the men's curious glances, she stoutly ignored them.

When a large man sat down next to her, she startled and quickly tried to stand, almost upsetting her tray in the process. A large hand gripped her shoulder and pressed her back into her seat. "At ease, squire," was Lord Raoul's amused reply.

"Yes, sir-I mean, my lord." Kel took her seat once more, her knees to weak to support her. She noticed the soldiers' amused expressions and their ill concealed chuckling. Her face flamed with embarrassment; her appetite disappeared and she pushed the tray away.

"I mean it, Kel," said Lord Raoul quietly. "You can relax around me. I know there are questions that need to be answered, like expectations and such, but you're doing just fine. And even if you weren't, these are extenuating circumstances."

"Seriously, Squire Kel," said a new voice. "This must be frustrating and terrifying all at once, but you can trust my lord. He's a very patient man. And you needn't worry about the men of the Own, we won't judge you either."

"Thank you-" Kel's eyes widened as she studied the man sitting across from her. His eyes were a startling blue and set in a tanned face with a mouth that was made for laughing. Suddenly, Kel's mouth felt dry and her palms sweaty. She clenched her fists, an attempt to hide that they had started to shake worse than ever. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart pounded erratically. She recognized this man; the feeling of trying to loosen a memory as if it were a tooth over took her. _Eyes._ She narrowed her eyes at him. "I-I know you."

The man's brows arched in surprise. Lord Raoul sat quietly next to her as she worked this out for herself. In fact, everyone at their table had heard her comment and were now looking at her appraisingly.

Suddenly the memory broke loose, flooding her.

 _A tall man with dark hair and blue eyes, wearing a blue uniform offering her a turnover._

It was fleeting; a detail hardly worth remembering. Except, that it was. Here was the proof, the hope, that her memory could return with time.

A large grin spread on her face and warmth bloomed in her chest. "You offered me a turnover."

Lord Raoul clapped a hand to her shoulder again, this time in celebration. He and everyone at the table were sporting their own goofy grins and each celebrating her tiny victory.

"Well met, Kel! Well met indeed. My name's Dom. Your best friend is a certain mad cousin of mine," said the stranger who was still sporting a large grin.

Kel perked up even more. She leaned on the table, suddenly very invested in the conversation. "You're related to Neal?"

"Sure am," Dom replied, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Except, I call him meathead."

"And why is that?" she wanted to know.

"Well, you see-"

Kel couldn't remember a time she had ever laughed so hard.


	8. Chapter 8

Gold and crimson light flooded the sky and drove the dark of night away. The morning air was crisp and clean, the grass wet with dew. Kel couldn't remember a time she had ever felt so invigorated as she watched the sun rise while performing a practice dance with her Naginta. Light glinted off her weapon's blade and into her eyes, but she never wavered. Slowly she sank into a meditative calm. Her thoughts flowed freely while her muscles flexed. Even if she couldn't remember training with her Naginta, her body certainly did. She let her instincts guide her movements and refused to think too hard on it.

The night before had been good for many reasons: she had been reintroduced to a great number of people, guided around the teeming mess that was the Grand Progress, and even had a break through with her first memory. Apparently Dom was a great friend of hers, one of the first she had made in the Own. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had fancied him before her accident, and she could see why. He was a very handsome man and he had an attitude that said he knew it too.

Qasim had regaled her with some of Dom's most famous mishaps with the women he had dallied with. She had the impression that only a couple days ago those stories would've upset her. But now? She mentally shrugged. It's not like she knew what he was like anymore. If Dom had ever known about her possible crush on him, he certainly never did or said anything that indicated that he did. Which was all well and fine by her. Her life was complicated enough as it was; she didn't need to add romance on top of it all.

Although, her talk with Lord Raoul had helped clear away a lot of the confusion. After dinner they had returned to their tent and he sat her down with a mug of spiced apple juice. He took the time to explain her squire duties, how they compared to a traditional squire's duties, and why they differed. He told her about training schedules he drew up just for her and how he would tutor her in the evenings so she could relearn all the academic material she had lost. She had no words to express her gratitude to this kind man before her.

"You have a long road to recovery ahead of you, but you'll get there. You'll make it to knighthood, I promise you that," he told her.

The sincerity that shone in his eyes made her smile until a tidal wave of insecurities washed it away. Lord Raoul waited patiently for her to speak while she gathered the words she needed. "You are very kind, my lord," she murmured at last. "Sergeant Dom was right about you being a very patient man. You've been nothing but considerate to me and I could never express just how grateful and thankful I am to have you as a knight master." She paused to wet her lips. Her hands were trembling again and she shoved them deep into her pockets. "However, I can't help but feel that you're making a mistake," she continued quietly. She bowed her head and focused her eyes on her boots.

Lord Raoul shifted back in his seat before replying in a calm but quiet voice. "And why is that?"

She swallowed around the painful lump in her throat. "I know next to nothing about being a squire, and all that I know is from what you've just told me. I'm just going to end up embarrassing you, if I haven't already. I heard the whispers while out with Qasim today, my lord. They think me unnatural for wanting to be a knight because I'm a woman. They think you a pervert and question your virtue because you took me on as your squire. They say that my injury is a warning from the Gods that women aren't meant to be warriors. You don't deserve their vitriol, my lord. You deserve a better squire than I can be."

Kel was mortified to find tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She immediately began to think of smooth lakes with reflective surfaces. She refused to cry in front of this brave man. She also couldn't help the flush of embarrassment that rose to her cheeks for laying all her doubts at his feet.

It took a while for Lord Raoul to reply, the silence that stretched between them taut with emotion. He slowly reached out to grasp her forearm and gently tugged her hand from her pocket. He held her small, trembling hand between his two larger palms. "Thank you for trusting me, Keladry," he said solemnly. "Try not to take their rancor to heart. The people like to gossip. If they weren't busy dragging our names through the mud, it would be someone else's names, trust me. But I don't care what they have to say, because I know it isn't true. I know that women can become great warriors. Just as I know that you will become a great warrior if given half a chance." He paused here to gather his thoughts. "Keladry, what happened to you was an accident. You were injured. What kind of man would I be if I gave up on you because of that? If pursuing knighthood is still your goal, then it is my duty as your knight master to make sure you have everything you need to reach that goal. I won't abandon you because you've been hurt and now need more intensive training. Please, Keladry. I want to help you, please let me."

Kel couldn't hold back the tears any more. They streaked down her face and her voice choked around a sob of relief. "Y-yes, my lord."

She opened her eyes when her Naginta finally came to rest at her side. She had made it through the entire pattern dance by muscle memory alone. The blood in her veins thrummed pleasantly and her chest heaved with exertion. She felt more alive now than she had since she woke with half her life missing. She lifted her face to the gentle caress of a breeze and couldn't help but think that this was the perfect beginning to the rest of her life.


	9. Chapter 9

"High." Clack.

"Middle." Clack.

"Low." Clack.

"Again."

"High." Clack.

"Middle." Clack.

"Low." Clack.

Sweat rolled down the back of Kel's neck as she concentrated on meeting Lord Raoul's staff. It had been almost a week since her accident. Lord Raoul hadn't been joking when he told her she would have to work hard to get to where she had been.

For the past week Lord Raoul had been putting her through the most basic exercises. This accomplished two goals; the first, to gauge where her skill level was currently at. The second, to figure out how to accommodate her shaking arms. The trick was to relax her grasp on her weapon. Her instincts told her to do the opposite, to grasp her staff as tightly as she could manage, but all that did was increase the severity of her tremors and the quivering of her staff.

The days had passed by in a haze of frustration. Some days were admittedly better than others. There were times when her muscles could remember a stretch or a move on their own and she could perform it flawlessly. The moment Lord Raoul would stop her and make her think about how she reacted and have her try to repeat it-well, it proved to be more difficult than Kel thought it should.

"Your body remembers what you trained it to do," Lord Raoul had said to her the day before. "And that's a good sign. However, it's not good enough that your muscles remember what to do. _You_ need to remember what to do."

"My lord!" squeaked a page, surprising Kel from her brooding. "My lord, the king wishes to speak with you, immediately."

Lord Raoul heaved a sigh. "Immediately?" He asked petulantly even as he finished their set of strike/blocks.

"Yes, sir," was the page's reply.

"Very well. Thank you, page." Lord Raoul watched the page leave the training yard before turning to his squire. "I don't see any reason to drag you into whatever this is. I'd like you to stay here and do more drills. Follow along with Aiden's squad," he said as he pointed to the group of ten uniformed men practicing with swords. "I know it's not ideal, but anything to keep you moving will help. If you find yourself falling into muscle memory make yourself think about the moves before you do them."

"Yes, my lord."

"And for the Gods' sakes, if your trembling becomes unbearable sit and rest a moment. It's only been a week, you're allowed a breather if you need it."

"Yes, my lord," was Kel's reply. She couldn't help the amused smile that tugged at her lips. She had learned that her knight master could fret like a mother hen when he so chose. She watched Lord Raoul walk away before she angled herself to watch and follow Aiden's drills from a distance.

Dutifully she followed along with the drills, even though they were meant for swords and all she had with her was a staff. What was already made awkward by the length of her weapon was compounded by her inability to actually _remember_ the drills. She grit her teeth and made herself think through each move she made. She refused to let her body move along without her comprehension. Lord Raoul already explained why this was necessary. She would relearn this; failure was not an option.

Kel was startled when her staff met another with a loud whack. She immediately disengaged and stepped out of striking range to size up her unexpected opponent. She was surprised to see Lord Wyldon standing before her wearing sturdy practice clothes, staff in a blocking position.

She bowed to the dour looking man. "My lord?" she asked respectfully.

"Back in position squire!" he barked at her. She straightened from her bow and stepped back into a striking position, waiting for his next instruction.

"We will continue with the High, Middle, and Low drill," he informed her briskly before meeting her high strike with a high block. They didn't speak unless it was for Lord Wyldon to bark out another drill or to tell her to relax her grip.

Kel never noticed her knight master watching her from the shadows.


	10. Chapter 10

Raoul navigated his way through a labyrinth of tents under the cover of darkness. The dwelling he was looking for loomed ahead, the occupant casting shadows on the canvas walls as they prepared for bed. His eyes never stopped moving; cataloging the locations of all possible witnesses. He waited for the candle to be extinguished before silently slipping into the tent.

The second the tent flapped closed behind him, Raoul felt a piece of cold metal pressed against his neck. Slowly he raised his hands so the man confronting him could see he was unarmed.

A sharp intake of breath told Raoul he had been recognized and the knife at his throat was retracted. "Goldenlake," the man growled. "What do you think you're doing?"

Raoul paused a moment before replying, absently stroking his neck. He had time to plan a speech while waiting for the man before him to retire for the night. Now that the time had come to confront him, Raoul found his words lacking. He crossed his arms before responding. "Why?"

Another growl was his answer and the presence moved, a dark outline among the shadows.

Raoul drew himself to his most impressive height and folded his arms over his chest. "It's been a week since her accident, so why have you decided to help her now?" Raoul pinned the man with a calculating stare.

Lord Wyldon shifted from foot to foot but still did not reply.

Raoul narrowed his eyes, his facial expression turning hard. "Is this part of a plot? Are you trying to-"

"Of course not!" Lord Wyldon snarled, slamming his hands down on his travel desk. "And how dare you say such a thing to me! I should demand recompense for such accusations!"

Raoul's lips pulled back in a wolfish smile. "Ah, but there's the thing. It wasn't so long ago that you almost did exactly that."

The man turned his back to Raoul, his voice was considerably quieter when he replied a moment later, "But I didn't."

The predatory smile slid from his face, and Raoul let his arms uncross to slide his hands into his pockets. "That's right. You didn't. Because you are an honorable man. But how do I know that you mean no harm now?"

"After everything I've seen that chit do, after everything she has overcome... I want her to succeed, Goldenlake. If Keladry succeeds, she will be undeniably the best knight to have come from my tenure as training master. And I would be proud and honored to say as much."

Raoul stood completely still, Lord Wyldon's softly spoken yet vehement words settling into place. He wasn't surprised to hear the man admit to respecting Kel. Many people respected Kel for all she's been through and surpassed with honor and dignity, himself included. It was how much Lord Wyldon respected Kel and his willingness to admit it that surprised him. Raoul inhaled sharply when he realized that in another time, another place, under different circumstances, there very well could've been a Keladry of Cavall.

He bit the inside of his cheek to bring his focus back from all the possibilities. It wouldn't do for his attention to be galloping away from him like a wild horse. Kel was his squire. It was his responsibility to find the hidden dangers and remove them before they became a problem. Which includes identifying Lord Wyldon's sudden desire to suddenly start helping Kel with her training.

"How very noble of you," Raoul replied slowly, softly. "I would agree to all of that. But something tells me you're not being completely honest." And it was true. There was something whispering to him that Lord Wyldon had more than just this set of reasons to justify his actions. He also knew that the man was very close to spilling exactly what his motivations were, he just needed to push a little more-

Raoul manage to lunge aside just in time for a paperweight to shoot past and miss his right shoulder. It struck the canvas tent and clattered to the ground. In the next instant there was a young voice that yelped, "My lord!" Lord Wyldon grabbed the next projectile he could find and flung it at the squire that had poked his head through the flap that connected the two tents. With another yelp, the lad retracted his head before he could get hit. Ink seeped down the tent flap and pooled on the floor where the inkwell shattered on impact.

Lord Wyldon stood still, his shoulders tense, as he tried to gain control of his labored breathing. He ran a hand down his face as he collected his thoughts. Raoul let the man have his moment. Suddenly he sank down into the chair at the desk, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. Finally the man murmured, "It's my fault."

Raoul narrowed his eyes but refused to comment. He held his body as still as possible yet still tensed in case he needed to spring aside again.

"She has no memories of her training and it's all my fault."

Raoul's eyes softened in understanding. "It was an accident," he gently corrected.

"So you say," was the gruff reply.

"I do say. Kel would say the same if you asked her," Raoul insisted firmly. "She holds no grudge against you."

"Silly chit."

Raoul grinned when he recognized the exasperated fondness in the man's voice. "In fact, she rather enjoyed your help this afternoon." He paused a moment for the man to absorb this bit of information before pressing on. "I drew up a practice schedule for her to follow. I was hoping to be able oversee her practices all myself, but after doing so all week, I don't think that's possible." Raoul paused again and waited while Lord Wyldon's face slowly lifted and their eyes met. "Perhaps you could help her while I'm busy with my other duties," he said softly.

Lord Wyldon stood from his seat and clasped Raoul's hand in a firm shake. "She will have my help whenever she needs it and in whatever capacity I can give it."

Raoul nodded gravely before mumbling a thank you and leaving the tent.


	11. Chapter 11

Kel could barely keep her eyes open as she picked up a tray and utensils in the mess tent.

It had been a long day, filled with training and lessons. Her brain felt close to exploding with everything she'd learned these past weeks. Lord Wyldon was a hard task master who often had her running and training from sun up to sun down. Lord Raoul was definitely more kind, but could be just as persistent with his own lessons of battle tactics and history in the quiet evenings.

However, even Lord Wyldon had been forced to express his surprise at how quickly she learned and remembered her lessons. It was as if the information was just below the surface of her mind, waiting to be pulled into her consciousness.

Therefore, it was no longer her memory holding her back from making progress, it was her hands. The muscle tremors that plagued her since waking in the infirmary had yet to subside. They hadn't even lessened. In fact, there were days she could barely hold a weapon or a quill. She could remember how smooth her weapons used to slice through the air, how comfortable their weight felt in her hands and on her person. But now? Now she had lost all grace she had ever possessed. Kel was frustrated with her body. She used her frustration to fuel her determination in her training, thus causing her exhaustion.

Which was also why she didn't see Cleon approaching her in the serving line until he was standing beside her, his arm draped across her shoulders. Instantly her body stiffened and her brain woke to full alertness. Her shoulders tensed beneath his arm, yet he gave no indication of noticing. Kel clenched her jaw and ground her teeth together to keep from snapping at the man. She couldn't ignore the intense guilt that roiled in her stomach; that clashed with her dislike of being touched without her consent.

Cleon had told her about their status as not-quite-lovers quietly, with tears of grief in his eyes, their very first meeting. It was clear to see she had meant a lot to him and that he missed her dearly. Kel could only express her deepest sympathies to the man and try to explain how she didn't remember him, and that she only wanted to continue her training. She rejected his offer of rekindling their relationship as gently as she could. She learned quickly however, that perhaps she should've been more assertive with her feelings.

Things quickly began to grow awkward between the two friends. Cleon had a way of speaking to her that was reminiscent of flirting but without the intent. He had a way of finding cause to casually brush against her, or touch her, even though it was clear she didn't appreciate the attention. The messy ocean of emotions in her stomach physically pained her. She felt guilty for hurting this kind and caring man so deeply. And yet in the same breath she hated him for trying to mark her as his possession.

 _What would Kel do?_ she thought to herself. _Stone. I am stone._

"And how is my favorite lady squire today?" Cleon asked jovially.

"Fine," was the terse response. The man serving her across the table, wearing the blue uniform of the King's Own, scrunched his eyebrows at her. His eyes shot to the tray in her hands that had started to shake worse than before, threatening to spill her ham and mashed potatoes onto the ground. She took a deep breath. _Stone._

Cleon followed the man's eyes as well, landing upon her trembling tray. "Here," he said softly, gently grabbing the tray in her hands, "let me help with this."

"It's fine. _I'm_ fine," she tried to stress, though her voice shook.

Cleon's brow furrowed with concern. "You don't sound fine and you look exhausted. Why don't you find a seat and relax and I'll bring this to you?" He spoke softly. Gently. His feelings obvious to those around them.

Bile and repressed emotion rose in Kel's throat; she had to work to swallow them down. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes. He was being his nice, and kind, and caring self. So why was she so _angry?_

"Kel, please. Let me help," he practically begged. His arm moved from her shoulders and she felt his large hand press against her back, in what was supposed to be comfort.

She saw red.

With surprising speed Kel turned on her heel and launched the contents of her tray into the man's face. The entire mess tent seemed to still and all occupants held their breath, afraid to make a noise in case the lady squire's ire turned on them. Cleon's eyes were wide, gravy clung to his eyelashes and mashed potato dripped from his nose and chin onto his tunic.

"Stop! Just stop!" She was unaware that she was shouting and that she had the entire hall's attention. The tears of frustration she had been barely holding back now rolled down her cheeks. "Stop touching me!" She shrugged her shoulders to emphasize her meaning. Cleon removed his hand as if burned and held it in front of him in a placating gesture. "Stop with the flirting, and the flowery language, I don't want to hear it! You don't call anyone else 'Teardrop of my heart' or offer to carry their trays, so why do you do it to me?"

She took a great gulp of air. "I'm sorry that you lost the woman that you loved, but I'm not her anymore! I can't tell you how sorry I am; it eats me alive knowing that I'm causing you so much pain. But I'm not the same person anymore." She took a shuddering breath, trying to calm her emotions and stem the flow of tears. "I am here to train for my shield. I am here to learn to be a knight, a warrior. Not to be romanced. I am not a tree to be pissed on by a dog claiming territory. You either need to respect that or never cross my path again."

She threw the tray that was still trembling in her hands onto the floor and stormed from the tent. The clattering echoed in the heavy silence. She didn't notice Cleon's complexion turn pale under the mashed potatoes.

She also didn't notice a man in a blue uniform tightly gripping his cousin's shoulder.


End file.
